Findan
by Vividpast
Summary: Modern Reincarnation. Their eyes meet at the orderly chaos that is the airport. They have found each other. Nothing mattered more than the other. When their eyes first meet, Arthur is four years old and Merlin is three. Fluff that will hopefully make you smile.


**WARNINGS: **Overdramatic reactions because hey, they're kids.

**GENRE****:** Fluff, a bit of Hurt/Comfort

**A/N: **Oh my god, I'm sorry that I broke my promise and haven't updated **Texts,Meetings and Matters of the Literal Heart** yet. I've lost my muse after I watched Thor 2 and reverted to being an Avengers fangirl with my sister. (I've kinda been helping her write her story). So far, my muse have yet to come back :(. I hate writing halfheartedly because the results are usually bad grammar and wordings. I promise to watch a lot of MERTHUR to bring my muse back!

For now, please settle for this fluff I have tried and failed to make. I cannot write fluff apparently. I don't really write this kinds of stories but I just can't this out of my mind. I'm posting this on the off chance that I make someone smile.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own BBC Merlin because if I did, I would damn the freaking legends. The story is mine to twist and I shall not kill Arthur. That is all.

Enjoy~

❤•°o.O`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´ ◇ⓛⓞⓥⓔ◇ `•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´O.o°•❤

The runway is emanating heat in visible waves, the sun frying the gray cement like Arthur's food in an oven. A chubby little hand reaches out and found the cool transparent glass protecting them from the summer heat outside.

Arthur feels his mother adjust her hold on him, arms snaking around his waist and short legs. She is trying to find a comfortable position for both of them. Arthur wraps his free arm around her mother's nape, chin on her soft shoulder. He relaxes, chest-to-chest with her, and never feeling more secure than this in his short life.

He feels a firm hand pat him on the back, too big to be his mother's. He glances at the side and catches his father's smile. He blinks in respond. Apparently, his father takes that as cue to ruffle his blond hair and void his mother's previous efforts at taming it.

"Don't worry, Arthur. We'll be home soon." His father assures.

"Uther!" his mother says in reprimand, hitting Father on the shoulder with an open palm. "Look what you've done." Mother attempts another go at his hair, shaping it down from the tangled mess it is.

Father merely chuckles.

"_Flight Q13 is now boarding. Passengers, please proceed to gate number three. I repeat, Flight Q13 . . ."_ a female voice suddenly booms from the ceiling.

He feels his hand on the glass vibrate ever so slightly. He pulls away to stare at his palm, blue eyes wide and bewildered.

"That's us." His mother informs cheerfully.

Father grabs the two large suitcases he has laid on the floor over half-an-hour ago. Mother gets the stroller behind her, one hand steadily supporting Arthur. Arthur doesn't know how she could carry him with only one hand. Perhaps she is a superhero disguised as a mom.

Arthur turns his whole body to look in front, hoping to see interesting things. His mother swiftly accommodates his change of position. Before long, they get behind a long line of people. They too carry big bags and baggage. They are perhaps going home just like Arthur. At the other end, people are entering, or rather exiting outside into the heat, baggage being put in a rolling contraption. Arthur watches the device for a while, the bags put on it disappearing in a square cloth-concealed hole.

After a while, the movements becomes repetitive and boring in the boy's eyes. They are still a long way (from what Arthur could see) from the exit. There is nothing more interesting up front.

He shifts and turns around to view the back. His mother again adjusts her hold, grunting slightly. He wraps a chubby arm around her nape yet again and lifts his gaze to search for something to watch.

That is when his eyes met familiar sapphire.

A dark-haired babe is sucking on a blue pacifier, looking so innocent in those blue-white-striped onesies. He looks only a bit younger than Arthur. The babe's mother has him around his stomach and behind his knees. He is being shaken up and down slightly in an attempt to lull him to sleep or calm him down. His blue eyes stare unblinkingly at Arthur the whole time, wide and curious.

Arthur recognizes him. He knows his name. But it is a name he can yet utter.

Instead, Arthur just smiles, wide and boyish. Unexplained warmth fills his chest, feeling like one of those times he opens a Christmas present. The babe stops sucking on his pacifier and tilts his head at him. Arthur stretches out a hand towards him.

_Hello._ Arthur says with his eyes. _Take my hand._

The babe just stares at the hand, making no move. Arthur's smile dims. A horrible thought runs through his mind. The babe does not recognize him. A shot of something painful goes through his heart. Arthur does not know what to do with that.

But then, the babe reaches out, a little hand flailing in the air. Arthur's heart stutters with relief. Both of their hands are too short to intersect. Their limbs are inches apart. Arthur struggles, frowning in concentration to make his hand longer. He stretches it beyond his its limit, biting his lip. He can do it. He knows he can.

It works. They grasp hands, fingers fumbling. But finally, they had each other, holding softly. Firmly. Comfortingly. Securely.

He does not see the way the babe's similarly dark-haired mother step forward to fulfill their wishes. He does not see the matching soft amused smiles on the babe's parents. All he has eyes for is the slight smile just visible behind that pacifier.

Arthur's hands are bigger and stronger. The babe's are soft and fragile, so small and so vulnerable. Arthur will have to protect him until the babe is old enough to protect himself. Maybe even after that.

A few minutes passes by, an eternity of smiles and happiness for both of them. Eventually though, the line has to move.

Arthur's mother stepped forward, taking the boy with her. Arthur grabs onto the hand tightly, not wanting to relinquish his hold. He feels the similar tightness of the other's grip. The babe's mother, who Arthur also recognizes, seems agreeable to this. She steps forward, saving both boys from pulling a muscle.

This goes on for a while. Arthur's and the babe's blue gaze never leaving each other. Their hands never waver in their hold.

_I found you_. Arthur smiles again, unable to hide his mirth.

_I found you first._ The babe releases a small giggle. Arthur could see his still toothless mouth from behind the pacifier.

_Where have you been?_ Arthur asks, tilting his head.

The babe's grip tightens for a split second. His gaze is blank. _Where have __**you**__ been?_

With no time at all, Arthur's parents and consequently, Arthur himself, reaches the front line. His mother gives a slip of paper to the lady in the uniform while his father places all their bags on the rolling device. The lady glances at the boys' joined hands.

"If you would like, I can take your tickets too." The lady opens her palm towards the babe's parents while holding the tickets given by Arthur's mother.

He can feel the surprise from his mother and father. From the corner of his eye, Arthur can see his mother's head turns behind. His father sees and perhaps wonders at their intertwined hands.

"Oh, w-we're not with them." The babe's mother replies with a slightly nervous edge.

With that, she reaches to separate their hold. Two sets of blue eyes widens. Their holds tightened up until the point that it is both painful for them. But the pain is irrelevant. They are going to part and both of them cannot take that. The babe's mother struggles to separate them without hurting either child.

"Arthur." His father says with a note of warning. "Let go. You're hurting the poor boy." His father shots the babe's parents an apologetic look.

_No, _he wants to shout. _Never again._

"We have to go, love." His mother's voice soothes. "Let go."

By this time, Arthur's father is prying his fingers one by one. Father's grip on the babe's hand is gentle, making sure not to hurt him (_he has hurt him enough_).

_We can't!_ Three of his fingers are defeated. _Don't make us. Please._

The grown-ups' strength overcomes both of theirs.

Their grip relinquishes, not by their own will.

"We apologize for that." His mother gives a small smile at the babe's parents. "He gets a bit too attached."

"No, no, nothing to apologize for." The babe's father laugh out. "It was sweet." His gaze and smile goes to Arthur.

The adults all share another amused and understanding smile.

Then, Arthur's parents walks away.

Two chubby hands, one smaller than the other, flail in the air. Their fingers grasps nothing but cold cruel air. They stare desperately at each other, tears gathering at the corner of their eyes. On the babe's face, some droplets are already trickling down his cheeks.

They have lost each other again. Perhaps this time, forever.

❤•°o.O`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´ ◇ⓛⓞⓥⓔ◇ `•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´O.o°•❤

**I may write another chapter if my muse wants me to.**

**Well, thanks for reading.**

**Have a nice day, everyone!**

**~Vividpast**


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